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A Life Worth Dreaming About
By: WiShBo! Date: December 1, 2012, 7:11 am
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A Life Worth Dreaming About by Nicholas Dettmann
ISBN: 978-1468543001
“A Life Worth Dreaming About” is Dettmann’s debut novel.
Released in February, “A Life Worth Dreaming About” is about
Carl Robertson, a 32-year-old man, that does everything he can
to move out of his small Midwestern town, losing many friends
along the way. He dreams of living the elegant lifestyle of New
York City. He uses his anger and hatred to move out of his
hometown, discredit it and never wants to think about it again.
For a while, it works. He is selfish and egotistical, with no
regard for those around him. Then, he finds his life on the
ropes and doesn’t know why or how to change it. That is, until
he meets a man who will change his life forever and in a way he
never could’ve seen coming or believes he thought he needed.
Suddenly, he finds himself trying to catch up to a new reality,
just in time to save his life and in hopes of finding a life
worth dreaming about.
~
Carl Robertson wakes up on a Sunday morning wondering why his
left arm is sore and why he is feeling out of breath. He brushes
off sweat from his forehead.
A two-car garage door hums open. He walks out the back door of
his four-bedroom ranch home in a quiet suburban neighborhood an
hour from New York City. A neighbor’s running lawn mower echoes
nearby, and shouts of kids playing football in the backyard next
door echo off his house. He walks down the concrete stairs from
the back door to the driveway.
With a sore right knee, the fifty-two-year-old limps up the
driveway. The sun beams down on a cloudless day, underneath an
ocean-blue sky. A gentle breeze passes across the yard. A bird
chirps in a nearby tree.
He grabs the lawn mower next to the kids’ bicycles. He turns on
the radio, which sits on a shelf overhead. The football game is
on—the New York Giants against the Chicago Bears. He loves the
Giants. It is scoreless midway through the first quarter.
He rolls the lawn mower out of the garage and pulls on the cord
to start it. It whirs loudly, and he starts on the backyard. He
loves the smell of freshly cut grass.
Jeff, his thirteen-year-old son, comes through the backyard gate
with his friend Timmy.
“Hi, Timmy!” Carl shouts over the lawn mower.
“Hello, Mr. Robertson.”
Timmy follows Jeff inside the house to play video games. Jeff
just got a new football game for his PlayStation 3.
Carl has just started back on the lawn when he feels a pain in
his chest. He stops, makes a fist with his right hand, and
clenches it over his heart while his left hand holds the lawn
mower’s handlebar. The mower whirs loudly. The pain quickly
subsides.
“Hmm,” he says. “That was weird.”
Bethany, Carl’s seventeen-year-old daughter, pulls up in the
family’s sedan, returning home from high school volleyball
practice.
“Hey, sweetheart!” Carl shouts. “How was practice?”
“It was good.”
Bethany shuts the door and notices something’s wrong. Dad’s skin
color looks different. It is slightly pale. She takes off her
sunglasses to try to get a better look.
“Dad?”
“Yeah, sweetie?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah?”
Bethany notices her father struggling to breathe. He takes a
deep breath, trying to get some more air. She watches him
closely as he takes a step with the lawn mower.
Suddenly, Carl lets go of the lawn mower. It stops running. He
clenches his right hand over his chest. He falls to one knee,
struggling to breathe.
“Dad!”
Bethany runs to her father and catches him before he lands flat
on the ground. He closes his eyes. His breathing is labored. She
reaches into her purse and pulls out her cell phone, holding her
dad in one arm.
She fumbles with her phone. Her hands are shaking furiously.
With her fingers trembling, she dials 9-1-1.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” an operator asks.
Bethany is trembling, crying. She’s scared.
“It’s my dad!” she screams into the phone. “I don’t know what’s
wrong with him. He’s all white. His eyes are closed. Not
breathing. I think he’s dead!”
“Try to remain calm, ma’am. I’ll send a unit out right away.
What’s your address?”
Jeff is in the kitchen getting a chocolate-chip granola bar out
of the cupboard over the oven. He catches sight of Bethany
holding Dad in her arms, crying, and talking on her cell phone,
which sits on her shoulder underneath her right ear. Jeff slams
the wooden cupboard door closed and runs outside.
The door swings open violently and slowly closes. Timmy catches
Jeff running outside. He follows him.
“Dad?” Jeff shouts.
He and Timmy are by Bethany and Dad’s side.
“Mr. Robertson? Are you okay?” Timmy nervously asks.
“Call Mom!” Bethany shouts at Jeff.
The boys rush into the house to call Jeff’s mother on her cell
phone.
“Hello?” asks Sydney, Jeff’s and Bethany’s mom, picking up the
cell phone just outside the grocery store.
“Mom! Something’s wrong with Dad. Bethany’s crying.”
“What’s wrong?” she anxiously asks.
“I don’t know. Bethany just told me to call you. She’s on the
phone with nine-one-one.”
“Is everything okay?” Worry creeps into her voice. Her hands
shake slightly.
“I don’t know. She says he’s not breathing.”
“I’m on my way!”
She shoves her empty shopping cart aside and rushes to her car.
She fumbles with her car keys, finally opens the car door, and
starts her car.
She pulls up to the house, and there is an ambulance out front.
She’s scared. She runs up the driveway and finds Carl motionless
on the lawn. She drops to her knees next to him.
“Sweetheart!” A tear drips down her right cheek.
The familiar smell of the freshly cut grass is in stark contrast
to the paramedics as they are working quickly to stabilize Carl.
“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” she asks frantically.
“We’re not sure, ma’am,” a female paramedic says. “Possibly a
heart attack. We’ll transport him to St. Luke’s here in a sec.
Once we get him there, the doctors will be able to tell for
sure. You can ride along with us to the hospital. You’re his
wife?”
“Yes!”
Mom looks at Bethany as she follows the paramedics to the
ambulance. “Sweetie, I’m going to ride along with your father.
Take the car and take your brother to the hospital with you.
Meet us there.”
Carl is put into the ambulance. Sydney climbs in to sit beside
her husband. Her tears drip onto the floor. She takes Carl’s
right hand with her right hand and holds it tight. The ambulance
sirens wail and echo throughout the neighborhood. The neighbors
stand on the sidewalk in front of the Robertson house as the
ambulance turns the corner and races out of sight.
Ben, a thirty-year-old newlywed from across the street, asks
Bethany, “Is there anything we can do?”
“No, thank you. We’re okay. We’re going to meet them at the
hospital.”
“I hope everything is okay. Please call us if you need
anything.”
“Thanks.”
***
As Carl is wheeled through the swinging doors of St. Luke’s
Memorial Hospital, his wife follows closely. Before the doors
swing shut, she sees Bethany and Jeff arrive in the lobby.
“Kids!” she says. “Wait here. I’ll come and get you as soon as I
can.”
“But we want to come with!” Bethany says.
The emergency room doors swing closed. Bethany wipes away a tear
from her right eye, turns around, and leads her brother to the
nearby waiting area. They sit down on a two-seat blue couch with
its back to the window. The sun beams through the window. They
are worried about their dad. Loud and overlapping chatter
surrounds them. A page is made over the public address system in
the hospital calling for a doctor to report to the emergency
room. The phone rings behind the front desk. An elderly man sits
alone in the waiting area across from where they sit. The TV in
the waiting area has a soap opera on. A man on a stretcher is
wheeled in through the swinging doors by paramedics. And they
lead him through the same set of doors Bethany and Jeff just
watched their father go through. Bethany wraps her right arm
around her younger brother. A nurse approaches them.
“Is everything going to be okay?” Bethany asks, with tears
rolling down each of her cheeks. Her brother sits quietly next
to her, worried and afraid.
Doctors frantically attempt to revive Carl. Suddenly, he slowly
opens his eyes, and the heart monitor at his bedside starts a
high-pitched and sporadic beep.
“What happened?” he asks groggily. “Where am I?”
His wife’s eyes are red from crying. He doesn’t know why she was
crying or why she was leaning over him.
“Sweetheart,” she says, sniffling and catching her breath, “are
you okay?”
“Yeah. I guess so. I’ve been better. What happened? What’s going
on?”
“Well, Mr. Robertson,” the doctor says, “you’ve just had a mild
heart attack. We’re going to run more tests to see if there is
any damage, and we’ll also schedule an echocardiogram. Right
now, just try to relax and get some rest.”
Carl looks at his worried wife confused. He reaches for her
hand. She reaches for his hand, and they firmly hold each
other's right hands. Faint chatter echoes through the doorway.
The heart monitor continues its high-pitched and sporadic beep.
“Is there anything I can get you, sweetie?” his wife asks.
“Water maybe?”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
He watches her leave the room and sighs deeply, trying to relax.
He leans his head back into the pillow. Suddenly, the hairs on
the back of his neck stand up, and he looks around.
“Hi, Carl,” a familiar male voice says from a dark corner in the
room.
The voice surprises him.
“Do you remember me?” the voice asks. A faint image begins to
appear of a man. Carl rubs his eyes trying to get a better look.
He suddenly recognizes him.
“How could I forget?” he replies.
Website:
HTML http://www.nickdettmann.com/
WiShBo!:
HTML http://www.wishbo.net/2012/08/a-life-worth-dreaming-about.html
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